What does hate-watching mean?

On the eve of the Oscars, the Super Bowl of hate-watching, a consideration of why we compulsively, irrationally watch things that annoy us

February 24, 2013|Christopher Borrelli

If your hate-watching involves guilt, you are not doing it in the proper spirit. To be fair, this can be confusing: The divisions between hate-watchable TV, camp (delivered with a wink) and guilty pleasures (which generally offer no pretense of quality) can seem razor thin.

Reality TV, for instance, is rarely hate-watchable because it lacks brains and ambition. (As Susan Sontag wrote in “Notes on Camp,” her seminal essay on the aesthetics of irony, “when something is bad, it's often because it is too mediocre in its ambition.”) But there is an exception — award shows. For instance, no one watches the Academy Awards expecting the show to be good — hate-watchable TV tends to be speedy and takes chances, two qualities you would never associate with a typical Oscar spectacular. And yet, the self-righteousness, the obliviousness and the unintended self-parody make up for it. Indeed, not unlike “The Killing” on AMC (very slow and hate-watchable), the Oscars offers long, empty spaces, perfect for live hate-watching.

A: It is. In fact, hate-watching is a byproduct of a spoiled culture, awash in choices and television that aspires to greatness. You did not have hate-watching when your choices were “The Love Boat” and “Knight Rider.” Sorkin's “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip,” an early hate-watching touchstone, did not become reviled because it aimed low. Hate-watching happens when a series does not live up to its promise — but with flair, an outline of smarts remaining. It's one of the unsavory things about hate-watching, particularly when voiced on Twitter: Taken the wrong way, it discourages going out on a limb. Unlike a “Harlem Shake” video, where the joy is immediate, or “House of Cards” on Netflix, which dropped its season on viewers in one lump, thereby forestalling whatever decline we might feel compelled to hate-watch. An ambitious series playing out in real time leaves hate-watcher forever on vigil for that moment when the other shoe drops and Jeff Daniels drives them nuts.

Q: Can I just hate-watch a person, not a whole show?

A: A lot of fervent hate-watching begins with a character, not a series. No one hate-watches “Mad Men” — but January Jones' zonked-out Stepford Wife? I don't hate-watch “The Office” but I hate-watch Jim (John Krasinski), whose attempts at reinvention, at leaving Scranton, feel smart and smug. Likewise, Andy (Ed Helms), once a charming dolt, has deepened, grown disturbing — it's an ambitious stab at complexity, but hard to reconcile since the show seems uncertain of how we should be feeling toward Andy. The most hate-watchable character on an otherwise fine show, however, is Lena Dunham's Hannah Horvath, who, like Dunham seems too aware of her own ambitions, position and self-awareness to feel natural. Which is partly the point. She is pushing you to dislike her.

Q: Is hate-watching really necessary? Who goes out of their way to watch what annoys them?

A: Ah, the biggest problem with hate-watching — who has the time? Hate-watching is deeply, understandably suspect. If, after working, paying bills, reading books, seeing movies, eating out, talking to people, answering email, tending to kids, cooking, cleaning, brushing teeth, planning for your future and watching TV without reservation, you still have time to watch TV that makes you mad, you are in love. You watch because you are a human being, and hate-watchable TV shows are troubled family members. An obligation is attached. Tina Fey, on the penultimate episode of “30 Rock,” captured this bind: “DVR at 98 percent. I am just never in the mood to watch ‘Treme.' OK, first things first, I'll watch a bunch of ‘Tremes.'” Similarly, it's easy to hate-watch, say, “Saturday Night Live,” when week after week flaws and aspirations go unresolved. You beat your head against that wall always.

Besides, to quote Russell Crowe in “Gladiator”: “Are you not entertained?”

Which … now that I think of it … not really — at least not by Russell Crowe in “Gladiator” — too somberly mediocre a display of angst to merit Grade-A hate-watching. But Russell Crowe in “Les Miserables”? Singing as the lawman Javert (“I am Javert!/Do not forget my name!”) delivering his low-register baritone with the bravura flatness of a Dakota road trip? A talented guy, pushing himself and way out of his depth?

I dreamed a dream, and, astonishingly, Russell Crowe is set to sing Sunday night. As Javert. At the Oscars. On live TV. Alongside Anne Hathaway. Hope-watch all you want, but I have an idea where this is headed.